about that.”
“Why would Wyatt care?”
“He has some kind of uneasy alliance with Lindy. Funneling business between the places.”
“Uneasy?”
“They do not like each other. But then, Wyatt used to be buddies with Lindy’s ex-husband. He did PR on the rodeo circuit back when Wyatt was still riding. So they used to be friends, and I think Lindy wants to castrate him.”
“I can see where that would cause a rift.”
“Yep.”
“Wyatt wants to drive business to Get Out of Dodge so badly that he’s willing to work with a woman who hates him?”
Bennett chuckled. “My brother used to ride bulls for a living. Drooling, angry, two-ton monsters that wanted to rip his guts out. I think one ragey blonde who wants to gut him doesn’t scare him much.”
“Well, that must be fun to be around.”
“Fortunately,” Bennett said, “I have my own business to keep me busy. And I’m about to go out on a call, so I will see you later.”
“See you later.”
When Bennett walked out of the clinic, her stomach bottomed out, the aftershock of everything that had happened in the past hour moving over her in a wave.
Why was it like this? All the time.
Why were there these moments? Thunder and lightning without the rain. A storm brewing that never seemed to break open. Tension. So much tension and nothing to ease it.
Maybe the tension was only on her side. Because it wasn’t coming from him. And it all felt so big and real and raw to her, and he didn’t seem to feel a thing.
The door opened again and she had to suppress a sigh, until she looked up and saw that it was Michael, holding Clarence in his arms.
“Is Clarence all right?” she asked.
“He is,” Michael said, a smile spreading over his handsome face. “But I’m here to see you.”
Utter resoluteness washed over Kaylee. She was going to take this opportunity. She wasn’t going to let herself back out.
“I’m glad you did,” she said, forcing herself to smile. Hoping that it looked like a smile, and not a tragic grimace.
“Good,” he responded. “I’d like to try dinner again.”
“Me too,” she said quickly. “And this time I’ll make sure that I’m not inadvertently on call.”
“I like that you work,” Michael said. “I feel like a lot of people are so insecure with first date stuff they act out of character. But I think that was really you. And I liked it.”
“Well,” she said, smiling. “Good.”
She really needed to get a new life. Really, really. Not the whole thing. Because there were parts of it that she loved. But she needed something to fill that void her body, mind and heart kept insisting Bennett could fill. He wasn’t ever going to. That couldn’t have been made more apparent by their conversation this morning. He didn’t feel anything asking about whether or not she had slept with Michael. He saw nothing strange in telling her offhandedly that he needed to find a woman to hook up with.
She was in the friend zone, and she should be fine with that. She was the one who’d put herself there, after all. She’d decided forever ago that she wasn’t going to act on her feelings, so she needed to own that choice. Not in that intermittent, half-assed way that she had for more years than she wanted to count. But in a real way. A solid way.
And the only way she was going to do that was to actually try to have a relationship with a guy instead of simply sabotaging every opportunity that came her way.
“Dinner would be perfect,” she said.
And she felt like if she said it enough times to herself over the next few days it might just become true.
* * *
THE LAST THING Bennett expected when he pulled into his driveway that evening was to see a police car parked out in front of his ranch house.
His dogs—traitorous, useless beasts—were lying on the porch, long noses resting on their front paws, their floppy ears draped down in total relaxation. The old horses—retired rodeo animals, former pets that had outlived their usefulness—and his solitary llama were all looking equally unconcerned out in the field.
But Bennett didn’t feel as calm as any of the animals.
He was a rule follower, so there was no way that he had done anything wrong. Forgot to pay a parking ticket? No. Definitely not.
He had been so distracted by the sight of the cruiser that it had taken him a moment to realize that there was another car parked alongside it. An SUV with yellow plates and a gray-green color that those official-looking vehicles seemed to favor.
He frowned and got out of the car, and by the time he did the police officer was already rising up to meet him.
“Are you Bennett Dodge?”
“I suppose that all depends on whether or not I’m getting served.”
“Not getting served,” the officer said.
“Okay.”
If somebody were dead he would have been called already. If somebody had died Wyatt would be here. Unless it was Wyatt who was dead. But then Grant would be here. Or Jamie. And if something had happened to Jamie... Well, Grant and Wyatt would both be here.
In a fraction of a second his brain concocted a thousand different events that might have happened to wipe out every last one of his siblings.
Or maybe it was his dad. Who was currently in New Mexico with his new wife, Freda. Maybe something happened to one of them. An accident with that damned motor home of theirs.
“Just tell me nobody’s dead,” Bennett said.
The officer looked shocked for a moment. “Oh, no one’s dead,” he said. “But we’re here to talk to you about a matter of custody.”
“Custody?”
The only thing he could think that might mean was they needed to take him into custody, but he hadn’t done anything. He was sure he hadn’t. But of course, he found himself cataloging his every action from the past week. Whether or not somebody had seen him get in the car after his half a beer last night.
But that was ridiculous. Mostly.
“You look confused,” the police officer said.
“I am,” Bennett responded.
“It’s about your son, Mr. Dodge.”
Bennett frowned, no immediate emotional reaction bubbling up to the surface. Mostly because the guy was just plain wrong. He had to be.
“I don’t have a son,” Bennett said.
“The paperwork I have says you do. You’re welcome to contest that. But what I have is a kid that’s going to end up in a group home if he can’t stay with his father.”
As if on cue the door to that SUV opened and a woman in a severe-looking outfit got out, followed by a teenage boy. Fifteen years old or so, Bennett figured.
Brown hair, tall, lanky. And he looked up at Bennett with simmering fury in brown eyes that matched Bennett’s perfectly.
“Hi, Dad,” he said. “I guess it’s been a while.”
“YOUR MOTHER IS Marnie Claire?”
Bennett was sitting